145 Entries for “scar”

I have a scar on my leg. The scar is there from a very drunken cricket trip to adelade many years ago. I was representing nsw salvos. No I am not a Salvo. I have friends who are the biggest drunken louts who are.

When I was little, I tore my nose wide open. I liked to wear cowgirl boots. I had a little red pair of boots with embroidery on the side, and I wore them everywhere. I wore them to the park in my neighborhood where there was a metal caterpillar. I climbed up and all of a sudden everything ran together and my world was marbled, the sky and the grass together. When I landed, my teeth chattered and the view wavered then stood still. My mother, horrified, staggered toward me with a blanket pulled off my little brother in his stroller. I felt warm, wet, and sticky dribbling down my chin. I know now why she was horrified. I had one gaping nostril. When she brought me to the doctor’s they sewed me up and the stitches were so thick I couldn’t breathe through my nose. A thick spider of knots that itched and pulled at my puckered skin. People at the grocery store stared at the zombie child, my face bruised and sore. Now all that’s left is a little white scar as if someone had scratched me there.

The look in your eyes. left a scar. all over my body. searing burning through me. through the blood vessels all the way to the red and purple wine drenched fist in my chest, scorching it black and ashy. i wont be wine again, just the bottom of the bottle old notes and tattered sour grapes.

I have a scar on my right arm. I put my arm through a window. It’s not an exciting story. It was just an accident. The cut is really close to my veins, to that place where you cut if you want to kill yourself. Right now, I think about it and it scares me. But…

I have so many scars, so many unseen marks left on me, on my soul from the past. Some scars are beautiful and some are tragic and some are beautifully tragic. No matter-they make me who I am today. I am proud to be covered head to toe with scars of people, experiences, and life. My scars are not something to be ashamed of. I will never be ashamed of them. But only a special certain few will get to see one, even a smaller number will get to see most, and I haven’t met anyone yet who has seen them all because I don’t know where they all are. Sometime, in the future, I will meet that person who finds the scars I can’t see, the scars which hide from me and the scars I shield myself from.

The scar he left in her life was horrible. It was wide, encompassing, noticeable. People always questioned and talked about and bothered her about the scar. It was painful. She was tempted to pull it out and just let all of the emotions underneath it run through.

I watched a movie about a suicidal boy who meets a similarly minded girl, and they hit it off, of course…in the adult psyche ward at the hospital. I think at first, if one has a scar, we might notice, but after a while it’s not important to us anymore; like, this girl had three scars down the side of her face, but after a while, her personality and inner beauty overwhelmed the scaring.

My Uncle wanted to take over the kingdom. Such a downer, that guy. Especially after dad died and I got blamed for causing the accident that took his life. Trampled to death by wildebeests, man, what a way to go. All said, the whole situation reminded me of Hamlet. Did I want revenge? Yeah. Yeah, I did. One upshot was that my mom wasn’t about to make it with my Uncle, so there was that. Eventually it came to light that my Uncle was responsible for everything that was wrong in the world. When we fed him to the hyenas the sun came back out and all was right in the land. We even sang a song about it.

Scars are left in order for you to look back and reflect on what made them appear. They don’t come out of no where, they’re from choices you made in life. Reflect upon them and change for the better. It’ll be good for anyone to do this to themselves.

theres a scar on my knee, its really small but i was playing tag and fell and it bled a lot…but didnt really hurt, still its a tiny scar. the tiny nes i have are from things that were so small but im not a very daredevil person in general, i dont go crazy stunt peson.

i have a small little very obvious scar on the center of my forehead. it’s shaped like a cross and i can’t remember for the life of me where it came from. actually now that i think about it, i think i may have had, had it all my life.

it remains on your skin for all of your life, it`s the signal of an accident one has had, or maybe a fight. It can also reflect a hard past life, and the survival to dangers, it can cause bad physical appearance in case it`s on an uncovered area, a scar will always be on the place where it used to be, unless a surgical procedure removes it.

Ethan crouched upon the floor. His back burned from the wound the monster had given him, but he knew he had to keep going. rocky whined beside him.
“hold on rocky, we’re gonna make it to the pond soon.”
he laughed freely, hiding the pain from his animal companion.

I have a scar on my forehead from when I fell through a glass door at the age of seven. I have two scars on my arms from the same accident, too. They have faded over the years, but sometimes I secretly wish they were more noticeable. Then maybe people would stop underestimating my strength.

battle scars littered the expanse of her arm, some from the violent demons within and some from external forces of self-hatred and loathing. she’d tried covering them up, at one point, with long sleeves and broken gloves and an assortment of bulky jewelry, but she’d given up with time. her battles were something to be proud of, she’d decided one day as she traced the lines with her fingers. she did, after all, wear her heart on her sleeve.

I have this really small scar on my knee from when I was in like fourth grade I think and this kid named Michael ran me over with his bike while I was walking home from school. He stopped, but he didn’t like, completely stop so I was lying in the middle of a not that busy intersection bleeding to death (not really, but I thought I was). And then I have these other scars on the back of my right leg because I fell off my bike in 6th grade while riding with my friend and the gear shredded up the back of my leg and it was gushing blood.

Scar, she said, although you present shadow and cold and pain, I promise to see you as you are; not weakness, not disease, not fear. Scar, she said, I know you, I know every bit of you and you have made me strong.

scarred i am not! used to be. afraid, lost, lonely. i was drifting, i hated everyone. now the scars have healed. i have scar tissue as a reminder, scar tissue on the tender flesh of my heart. and i have him.

Her scars criss-crossed down the right leg, ending at an ankle. Thin strands of puckered flesh, a path of physical memory wrought by the point of a six-inch switchblade. Carrie sighed, remembering how it first came about.

It was a cold day. My skin was puckered and blue, making my scar stand out more than normal. It had been years since that night…since Texas, and it was strange that my scar was the only thing that had remained constant — my only reminder of what had been. God, it had all faded away so fast.

you left a scar and then ran so far.
i don’t know where you went, but if you could, send some rent.
i know you don’t feel the same way, but because of this scar, i feel like it’s me who you should repay.

this is a little too predictable for me. i think of evanescence and linkin park and the used. even those years between then and now – nails, bright eyes.
the present is characterized by the dullness of scars. despondency beyond the pain. the energy once fueling the creation of such holes now lost with what was stretched to recover it again. apathy. then open now dead. carelessly going through the motions.

There is always something left behind. We may not see the effects at first. Only the wound the damage. But then we realize that it had healed over. can you not see how it had been worse. Gaping and bleeding, but now it is healed over and safe, fixed. The pain is no longer there.

i took the butterfly’s beautiful carcass from her hands. then i saw the words carved into my palm. hoped that, as he walked behind, he hadnt already seen. he had.
i let its earthly remainder float from the second floor of the music building.
he did not mimic her frantic actions of earlier that evening. he was unphased, yet somewhat sympathetic. we drew hearts and peace signs into the wall. he told me how our brains were alive for a few moments after the rest of us were dead. smiled as he continued – this could all be an eternity built in a fraction of a second inside our heads. probably a pothead notion, but they always had cool ideas. anyway, it was a nice day.

Don’t be afraid little one. Pull your hoodie tight around you. Keep walking through the corporate forest. I know it’s a little dark and there are some strange creatures around. The rustling noises are just the stirrings of their discontent. Soon the sun will rise and you’ll reach the end of the path. You’ll be free. Think of it as a great adventure. Don’t let the experience scar you.

There I stood in front of the mirror, my hand absent mindedly touching my scar that rippled across my stomach. It still hurt to touch. Bruises swelled beneath the white, lumpy skin. I cannot believe he would do this to me.

THE SCAR THAT RAN FROM THE LEFT SIDE OF HER FACE TOLD A DEEPER STORY THAN THE ACTUAL CUT. HER FATHER WAS A LOVING DAD, BUT MOM WAS JEALOUS AND WANTED ALL THE ATTENTION. THE ATTENTION THAT HE GAVE TO THEIR DAUGHTER.